Domestic Relations
by Auroraas
Summary: A series of drabbles taking place over the course of two days, as Sharon and Rusty start to learn to live together. Rated T for language.


"What are you _doing_?"

The now familiar reprimanding-even-when-she-isn't trying-to-be tone of Sharon Raydor sounds from behind him, causing Rusty to roll his eyes. He turns away from the refrigerator, half-gallon carton of orange juice in hand, and looks at her as if she just stated that the world was flat.

"Um, drinking juice. What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" he replies, and lifts the orange juice to his lips, taking another swig. Sharon cringes.

"That's what glasses are for, Rusty." she states, marching over to a nearby cupboard and procuring from it said item. She then snatches the carton from him, shushing him when he begins to protest, and pours the remainder of it into the cup before sliding it towards him.

"Yeah, okay, well maybe if you bothered to tell me where anything was in this stupid house I would have drank out of a glass." he retorts, and slams the refrigerator door shut. He fully expects her react in an annoyed manner, or even angrily, but instead the corners of her mouth start to twitch.

"_Drunk_." Sharon corrects, and walks out of the room. Rusty lets out an exasperated groan.

.

.

.

They are finally back hom-at Sharon's house, after a long day of investigations. After Sharon picked Rusty up from school, she had dragged him to the Major Crimes offices, and then all over town trying to track down some culprit or another. Rusty is the first one through the door, and with a relieved sigh, he drops his backpack on the floor and rolls his shoulders.

Sharon walks into the house a few moments later, and lets out a sound of incredulity.

"How many times have I told you _not_ to leave your things on the _floor_? Put your things in your room." she grounds out, and walks into the kitchen. Rusty makes a face and settles on the couch. _It's not _his_ room._

A few minutes pass before Sharon re-appears in the living room with a glass of wine in hand, and gestures to his bag.

"Sometime _today_, please!"

"God, just give me a minute, okay?" he grouses, and allows himself a few more moments of resisting her order before he pushes himself up, picks up his bag, and heads for the guest room all while her eyes burn holes into the back of his head.

.

.

.

"_Rusty!_"

God, not again.

Sharon appears in the doorway to his roo-the guest bedroom, in her pajamas bathrobe and glasses, looking angrier than she had while interrogating a criminal in the interview room today.

"It is _one-thirty AM." _she emphasizes. "Turn your music down!"

Rusty frowns at her.

"I had my door closed, and so did you. And my music's _not_ that loud. Stop over-reacting." he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. Sharon rubs at her temple, and lets out a deep breath.

"It _is_ that loud. It is. And I'm trying to sleep; I do have to get up in four hours."

Rusty contemplates turning his music up a little, just to see how she'll react, but ultimately decides against it. He remains silent, and makes no move to turn it up or down.

"I thought I would get to stop dealing with this once my daughter moved out." she sighs. "Of course, the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears weren't as bad as _this_. What _is_ this, anyway?"

_Ain't nobody fuckin' with my clique, clique, clique_

Rusty smirks as he watches the changes in her expression- from mildly curious and slightly annoyed to horrified in a matter of seconds.

_Ain't nobody fresher than my mothafuckin' clique, clique, clique _

"Why are you listening to this?" she manages to get out. "You shouldn't be listening to this!"

Rusty's amusement goes away in a matter of seconds.

"What, do you think you're protecting my _innocence_?"

_All these bad bitches man, they want the, they want the, they want the_

_"_I've heard, said and done a lot worse."

Sharon's expression falls, and she opens her mouth as if she wants to say something. She obviously thinks better of it, and shakes her head before she starts to move towards him.

_But I'm the fucking villain man, they kneeling when I'm walkin in the building_

"Rusty..." she starts, before he cuts her off.

"Stop. Just go back to bed. I'll turn it down." he spits out, her hand an inch from his shoulder. She retracts it willingly, looking as though she can't decide whether to be further saddened by his rejection or thankful for it.

She walks out of the room, and he turns the music off completely.

.

.

.

They are eating breakfast in relative silence as usual, when Sharon brings it up.

"Rusty, about last night..." he cuts her off with a sigh.

"I know... I probably shouldn't have said those things. Just don't... ask me to see like, a shrink or something, okay?"

Sharon appears speechless for a few moments before shaking her head in slight confusion.

"Why?"

"I just... I don't want to. I don't know." he shrugs. She smiles at him, a little sadly, and nods.

"Alright. You don't have to." she relents, and he smiles softly at her before returning to eating his breakfast.

.

.

.

As Sharon and Rusty pull up in front of his-_not his school, _she smiles at him.

"Have a good day at school, sweethea-" she stops herself before the whole word is vocalized. He stares at her, this strange woman who both pulls him close and keeps a comfortable distance, in confusion for a few moments. She is beginning to flush, the great Captain Raydor is beginning to flush from embarrassment. He smiles warmly back at her.

"You, too."

As he shuts the door behind him, and makes his way to his first class of the day, the smile stays with him the whole way.


End file.
